Maya Banks - No Place to Run

“He’s good. Out of surgery. My mom was down a while ago. They removed a bullet fragment from his shoulder. He’s probably bitching with the best of them right now.”

“Thank God. I was so worried. I couldn’t have lived with myself if he’d died.”

Sam moved his hand from her belly and touched her cheek. His thumb brushed across her lips, and he stared at her with so much emotion in his eyes that her belly clenched.

“And I couldn’t have lived with myself if you had died, Sophie.”

Her chest hurt. She couldn’t breathe.

He pulled away and then stuck his hand in his pocket. He reached for her fingers with his other hand, opened them and then brought the hand from his pocket and laid something on her palm. She looked down to see the key she’d dropped into Garrett’s pocket.

She sucked in her breath and stared at the shiny piece of metal lying across her hand. Then she looked back at Sam, searching for an explanation.

He closed her fingers over it and stared intently back at her.

“You decide, Sophie.”

Warmth traveled up her body and wrapped around her heart.

She opened her mouth to respond, but a knock sounded at the door. To her surprise, Adam Resnick stuck his head in, but he didn’t make any move to enter. Sam looked at her and waited.

“Come in,” she called softly.

He had an unlit cigarette tucked between his lips and his hands shoved into his pockets as he cleared the entryway.

“Sophie,” he said around the cigarette, and then as if remembering it was there, he hastily reached up and snatched it from his mouth.

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay. Maybe.” She laughed a little. “I’m not sure yet.”

Resnick nodded. “I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to check in on you.” He hesitated for a moment, glanced over at Sam and then focused back on her. “And I wanted to thank you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Thank me? I didn’t do anything.”

“You did more than you think. Your father’s network is crumbling as we speak. We’ve rounded up dozens of his followers. He and your uncle are dead. It’s only a matter of time before we take apart his system.”

She glanced down at her hand, felt the imprint of the key. And she knew what she needed to do. Sam had given her the choice. The freedom to place her trust in whom she wanted. She trusted him. And now she’d trust Resnick to do the right thing. As Sam had trusted her.

Slowly she raised her hand and extended it in Resnick’s direction. She let her fingers fall open to reveal they key.

Resnick stared at her, his brow furrowed.

“Take it,” she said huskily. “You’ll find the vault underneath my father’s home in Mexico. In it is everything that made Alex Mouton who and what he was. His wealth. His contacts. And if he was dealing in nuclear weapons, it’s all there.”

She carefully related the facts she’d given Sam when she’d first told him of the key. Resnick halted her midway through and pulled out his BlackBerry. He typed furiously as she dictated.

When she was finished, Resnick stared at her with admiration and gratitude reflected in the dark pools of his eyes.

He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out what looked like a business card. But when he handed it to her, she saw that it only had a single phone number written in ink across its surface.

“If there’s anything I can ever do, you have only to call.”

She stared at the card between her fingers. A great weight lifted from her shoulders. It was over. It was truly over. Her father was dead. Her uncle was dead. Anyone who could possibly harm her or her child was gone.

She was safe.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” Resnick said in a quiet voice.

She looked up as he turned to Sam and extended his hand. Sam stood and shook it firmly.

“Thank you,” Sam said. “I owe you now.”

Resnick shook his head. “No. Never that. I’ll be in touch.”

Sam nodded and Resnick walked out the door. When he was gone, Sam leaned over and pressed his lips to her temple.

“I’m so proud of you,” he murmured.

She turned so that their eyes met and their mouths were just a breath apart.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He trailed the back of his hand down her cheek, and she was struck by the intensity of his gaze. He was so focused on her that on another man, she’d have sworn his expression meant he was looking with all the love in his heart.

“I sat here watching while you slept, and I went over what I wanted to say to you. And then I realized how much I needed to say to you. I thought about how much we need to talk about. And it went on and on.”

He turned his hand over and palmed the side of her face. His thumb trailed over her lips, then traced the shape of her mouth.

“But then I realized that all the talking in the world doesn’t change one single fact. It doesn’t clarify it, make it better or worse. It doesn’t change what is.”

She stared at him, her heart beating so hard that she could feel her blood pulsing, hear the roaring in her ears.

“I love you, Sophie. I can’t tell you at what moment I fell in love with you. Maybe it was that first time I looked across the bar in Mexico and there you were. Maybe it was the first time we made love. Or maybe it was watching you fight for our child. And then for my mother. It doesn’t matter. I love you. That’s it. That’s all. I hope to hell it’s enough.”

Her heart squeezed. She’d always tried to imagine what it would be like to hear those words. To know that she was loved. Nothing had come close. There was so much joy. It hurt. It shouldn’t hurt, but she felt too small for her skin, like she’d burst right out of it.

“I love you too.”

She’d always imagined those three words being so difficult to say. It was so easy, so freeing. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

Sam smiled, and his voice sounded scratchy and a little hoarse. “I know you do, honey. God, I do know. You’ve proved it time and time again. But thank you for saying it. I needed to hear you say it.”

His elbows were on the edge of the bed now, and their faces were close—so close she could hear each of his breaths. She could feel his nervousness and his uncertainty, and she marveled that she could do that to him. That she could make this man of action be hesitant, even for a moment.

He tugged her hand from its resting spot over her waist and let it rest over his palm. He put his other hand over the top and rubbed his thumb idly across the back of her hand.

“Answer me something, Sophie. What do you want? What do you want most in the world?”

There was vulnerability in that question. Was he afraid she’d want something beyond him? Out of his reach?

“I want us to be a family,” she said softly. “I just want us to be a family. You loving me and our daughter. Me loving you. I’ll always love you, Sam. I’ll never betray you.”

Some of the tension fled his expression. His eyes burned. Deep, intense blue.

“You’ll have a family, honey. You’ll not only have me and our daughter, but you’ll have brothers. A sister. You’ll love Rachel. And there’s Rusty.”

At her grimace, Sam smiled. “Don’t worry. She’s a pain in the ass to everyone. You’ll have a mom and a dad. They’re the best and they’ll love you every bit as much as I do.”

He leaned in and kissed her, his lips melting over hers in the sweetest of touches.

“And you’ll have me. Always.”

Her stomach dipped, and she imagined this was what riding on a roller coaster was like. Or flying. Facing into the sun, riding so high that you couldn’t see the ground.

She wanted to laugh. Wanted to close her eyes and savor this moment forever.

She was free. Finally free.

Free to love. Free to live her life the way she wanted.

Free to choose.

“I choose you,” she whispered.

He smiled and kissed her again. Between them, their daughter rolled once, then quieted as though she didn’t want to disturb the precious moment between her parents.

“And I choose you, Soph. Always you.”

“I don’t know how to live a normal life,” she admitted. “I don’t know what it’s like not to be afraid. I’ve never not been afraid.”

“I can’t offer normal,” he said. “But I can promise you that you never have to be afraid again. You’ll always have me to protect you and our child. Not just me, but my entire family.”

“I’m afraid.” Then she laughed. “See? I don’t know how not to be afraid. What if I screw up?”

He touched her nose, his eyes serious, and soft with love.

“I’ll help you. We’ll take it one day at a time. Trust me, Soph. Trust me to love you and make you happy.”

She rested her cast on his shoulder and leaned into him until their foreheads touched.

“One day at a time. I think I can safely make that promise.”

SOPHIE never got tired of the view from Sam’s dock. She sat at the edge, dangling her feet in the water as the sun slipped lower in the sky. Her protruding belly made it difficult for her to sit too far forward, so she leaned back, bracing her palms on the sun-warmed wood, and turned her face upward.

Three weeks she’d been here with Sam. Three weeks since they’d come back from West Texas. It had taken a while for everything to sink in. She’d had plenty of time to think during those weeks. The quiet times were good for her soul, but they also gave her time to doubt.

She rubbed at a spot on her belly where she was convinced a tiny foot poked and then shifted to alleviate its discomfort. Her feet kicked up and she sent droplets skittering across the surface of the water.

“Hey, Soph.”

She glanced up, shielding her eyes with one hand, to see Sam standing behind her, hands shoved into his jeans pockets.

“Mind if I sit?”

She smiled and patted the worn wood beside her. He squatted and then maneuvered his legs over the edge of the dock. It was then she noticed he was barefooted and his jeans were rolled up over his ankles.

He didn’t say anything, but then he’d been extremely patient with her long periods of reflective silence. He seemed to understand that she was struggling to come to terms with everything that had happened.

They sat side by side, their feet making ripples in the water below. She put her palms down and curled her fingers over the edge of the dock. She tried to make her voice sound casual, like she was embarking on meaningless conversation.

“Do you ever worry about being a good parent?”

As if picking up on the worry she’d tried so hard to conceal, he turned and cocked his head, his eyes narrowing.

“All the time.”

He reached for her hand and laced their fingers together.

“I worry too,” she admitted. “So much is made of nature versus nurture, but in my case, both aren’t good options. Where does that leave me? How can I be certain I won’t become a monster like my father? I know it sounds silly, but then I remember that I shot my father in cold blood.”

He pulled her into the shelter of his arm and brushed a kiss across the side of her head.

“Have you ever considered that you’ll be ten times the mother of anyone else because of your upbringing?”

She shook her head. “I worry so much. Some days I’m convinced I’ll make sure our daughter never doubts for a minute how much I love her. Other days I worry that I’ll screw up her life forever.”

Sam chuckled. “Welcome to parenthood, honey. I don’t think there’s a parent alive who doesn’t have those same fears, no matter what their upbringing was like.”

She laid her head on his shoulder and absorbed his warmth and strength. “Think so?”

“I know so. You should talk to Ma. She swears over and over that she screwed up so many times that it’s a wonder any of us boys turned out normal. Dad argues we didn’t and that it’s all her fault.”

Sophie laughed and enjoyed the loosening in her chest. She relaxed and stared over the water, soaking up the beauty of the perfect day. The sun was beginning to set, and streaks of pink and gold painted the horizon.

“You know what I regret?”

Sam’s arm tightened around her waist. “What’s that?”

“That we never got to do all the normal things a couple does. You know. Go out on dates. See stupid movies. Go dancing. I used to dream about dancing in a crowded room at New Year’s. Sort of like a fairy tale.” She smiled as the childhood fantasy came alive in her mind. “Me and Prince Charming waltzing as confetti rains down around us, and all the noise and cheering at midnight.”